


Skirting the Issue

by quiet__tiger



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Boys in Skirts, Crossdressing Kink, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Matt dresses up for John, and John approves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Jock Itch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10639362).
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal Oct. 12th, 2008.

Matt dried off his legs, taking time to stroke them with his fingers after he was done. He’d been leery of shaving, but now his legs were so _smooth_.

Hopefully John wouldn’t mind that they were also spindly and pale.

He tugged the plaid skirt up over his hips. It was a little tight around his waist, but another size up would have been too big.

He’d debated shaving _everywhere_ , and had finally settled on shaving off his happy trail, chest hair, and under his arms, but trimming everything covered by the skirt. Thick-ish dark hair underneath the white blouse would have ruined the look he was going for, but shaving everywhere... He was a little nervous about razor blades in certain areas.

Pulling the blouse on, he folded the collar down, and, having forgone an undershirt, tied the ends of the shirt at his navel. He was trying to not make it too glaringly obvious that he lacked the breasts that John most likely fantasized about underneath the outfit, but he wasn’t going to wear falsies or anything.

There was kinky, and then there was fetish.

He debated knee socks, but he’d gone to all the trouble to shave, so he decided not to cover his legs, pale and spindly or not. No saddle shoes, either, because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to look at himself in the mirror again.

The skirt was bad enough, but it was for John. He didn’t think there were a lot of places he wouldn’t go for him.

Speaking of McClane, he’d be home soon. Operation: School Girl would commence.

~*~

John opened the front door, glad to finally be home. Work was still a nightmare as a result of the fire sale, even though months had passed. But even if work wasn’t hell, he no longer came home to an empty house, which was reason enough to want to spend more time there.

Matt had grown on him, more than he wanted to admit. He definitely hadn’t broken Matt’s crush, only turned it into something a little fiercer, and somehow not entirely one-sided anymore.

The frequent sex didn’t hurt, either. If only there were fewer comments at work about the “lucky lady” John “convinced to go out with him.” He wasn’t going to tell them any time soon that it was a lucky guy who’d done the convincing.

Closing the door behind him, John shrugged out of his jacket, then went to go lock up his gun in its drawer in the kitchen. Matt hadn’t really asked that the weapon not be kept in the bedroom, but John could see it in his eyes whenever he forgot to take it off.

And where was Matt? He was almost always around when John got home. Kid needed more friends in the area. Hanging around with a middle aged cop with intimacy issues couldn’t be good for someone so young. But as long as Matt didn’t complain...

Then he realized he could hear music coming from the bedroom. It wasn’t that metal crap Matt usually listened to; it was softer, and actually might have a melody if John listened closely. He followed the sound until he came to the partially-closed door of the bedroom.

He pushed the door open and was greeted by the sight of Matt lying on his stomach on the bed, book open in front of him, scrawling notes into a notebook. He was... He was wearing the _skirt_. And a girl’s blouse... His feet were bare, the toes of one foot resting on the back of the calf of the other. And his legs... Bare. No hair.

Why was it all _hot_? It shouldn’t be hot. Scrawny cross-dressing computer nerds with shaggy hair and scars on their knees weren’t hot.

Except, apparently, this one.

John followed the line from the toes all the way up Matt’s leg, where the pale—and hairless!--skin disappeared under plaid. Then up over Matt’s ass and hip, what little curvature was visible from this angle. Up his back to his hair, and that was when Matt turned his head to look over his shoulder, and John could see his tongue was doing something lewd to the pen he was holding.

And then he _winked_.

John couldn’t get erect in a heartbeat anymore, but his body was trying. He felt lightheaded as he asked, “What are you doing?”

Matt said, “Wait, let me turn off Britney.” He used the remote to turn off the stereo he’d insisted on putting in the bedroom, then turned back to John, sucked on the pen for another few seconds, and answered, “Homework. It’s such a pain. But if I get it done now, I can go to the basketball game later, watch the boys play.”

Ah, Matt was role-playing as well as cross-dressing. Thank God he wasn’t speaking in a falsetto; John wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle that. It’d just be creepy.

But that Matt was willing to do this for him, just because he asked...

“Oh yeah? You think you have time for a study break? Don’t want you working too hard.”

“Maybe.” Matt going for ‘coy’ usually just made him look ‘weird,’ but he still tried. “You think you’ll make it worth my while if I get behind?” He sucked on the pen again.

“I guess we won’t know until we try.”

Matt wiggled his eyebrows seductively. “You make a compelling argument.” He rolled over onto his back, propped himself up on one elbow, and spread his legs slightly. The blouse was tied over his stomach, the sides opened wide to show his flat chest. His free hand reached down to the bottom edge of the skirt and pulled it up an inch. “What do you think of my skirt? The school makes us wear them, but they aren’t all bad.”

 _It’snothotit’snothotit’snothot._ But it so totally fucking _was_. John had been in Catholic school only up until junior high, so he never had the school girl fantasy destroyed by reality. The totally dirty girl masquerading as the innocent girl... What was it about that that was so hot?

And how did it transfer to this totally impure boy?

Hell, the whats and hows didn’t matter, all that mattered was that John needed to get his hands on Matt. Touch him, rub against him, slide inside of him... Matt was talking. What was he saying? “What?”

“I said, the skirt isn’t all bad, it just gets itchy sometimes when I don’t wear anything underneath it.” Matt slid the bottom of the skirt up his legs another inch. “Sometimes I just can’t wait to get out of it, you know? Slip into something else. Or nothing.”

John groaned out, “Matt...” But then he composed himself enough to ask, “Would you like some help? Getting out of the skirt, I mean.”

“You’re a little presumptuous, aren’t you.” Trying to be coy again, and failing miserably. But John was okay with that.

“Just a little.”

“Well, if you’re so eager...” Matt smoothed the skirt back down and rested back on both elbows. “I could use a little help. The zipper sticks sometimes, you know.”

John swallowed. “No, I didn’t.” He thought about the logistics, then said, “It might be easier if you stand up.”

Matt _slunk_ off the bed, then stalked towards him, wearing his adorable little half smile. “Like this?”

“Turn around.” Matt turned, and John pulled him back against his chest. He wrapped him in a bear hug, crossing his arms over the front of that lean frame, and pressed the side of his face against Matt’s. He could feel the younger man’s stubble from his excuse for facial hair, but that was okay. Matt smelled nice. Not like a woman might smell, but nice just the same.

John loosened his grip a little so he could put his hands on Matt’s waist. He rubbed his thumbs over the edge of the skirt, onto Matt’s back, and back down again. The skirt was indeed itchy, and was Matt wearing anything underneath? He couldn’t tell.

He ran his hands down the sides of the skirt, then down Matt’s thighs until he couldn’t reach. Smooth skin, maybe a little dry, but no hair. Back up towards Matt’s ass, skirt bunching in his hands, and though the fantasy girl in John’s mind had a rounder ass than his computer nerd, the person in the fantasy wasn’t real, Matt was. That made it better; it wasn’t just a jerk off fantasy, he had a lover willing to dress up for him.

That was fucking _hot_.

Either John was kinkier than he’d ever realized, or somehow way too hard up for sex, or maybe somehow Matt had finally turned John gay. He’d attempt a protest, but then he might have to give up the sex.

He pressed his hard cock against Matt’s ass, rubbing it against him, the zipper of his pants decidedly in the way. Matt said, “Thought you were gonna help me get this skirt off.” Did he sound choked? Was he turned on, too? The hard cock that twitched against John’s hand when he went to investigate answered that question in the affirmative.

He said deeply, not quite whispering, into Matt’s ear, “You look so good in it, though, you sure you don’t want to keep it on?”

“Maybe--” choke “--maybe a little while longer.”

John hadn’t decided yet if he’d like to fuck Matt with or without the skirt, but they could take it slow, figure it out. He had to admit he was disturbed at how turned on he was, just that strip of plaid material over that narrow ass.

 _Matt’s_ narrow ass. It was Matt, that’s why it was hot. Anyone else and John would be laughing his ass off.

Sex with Matt had clearly fried his brain.

He didn’t need it for much, anyway.

He reached around Matt’s front again and untied the knot of the shirt tails. He pressed his right hand up underneath the cotton, up to rub his thumb against Matt’s nipple. Matt moaned slightly, and John didn’t even miss the curvy, soft breast that would be underneath his hand in a fantasy.

He finally realized he had to get Matt out of the skirt. It was just a skirt. But Matt was Matt. He’d told Matt before that he wasn’t going to pretend the kid was someone else, and he wasn’t going to do it now, costume or not.

First he stepped back to pull the blouse off the slender arms and shoulders. The white cotton crumpled on the ground, but John certainly didn’t care and he doubted Matt did either, if the way his breathing hitched in anticipation was any indication.

He said softly, against Matt’s ear again, “Turn around.” Matt turned, and John could see how turned on he was, face flushed, pupils dilated. And John had barely touched him.

A glance down gave even more evidence as to how aroused Matt was; the skirt was tented from his erection. That... really had to itch like a bitch, since he wasn’t wearing another layer. John reached for the zipper, but Matt’s hand stopped him. Frustrated, John almost barked, “What?”

Matt had an eyebrow raised. “Don’t you want me to blow you while wearing the skirt? Isn’t that part of the fantasy?”

John shook his head and tried not to smile. “Fantasy’s over. It’s hot. _Really_ hot. But I want you, Matt Farrell.”

Matt’s eyes, already a little large for his head, bugged out even more. “What? Really?”

“Yeah, Matt. I appreciate it. A _lot_. And don’t get rid of it. But I don’t want to cheapen you to just a fantasy, ‘cause that’s not what you are.” And _that_ came out all wrong, based on the way Matt’s face fell. “No. I mean. You’re real, you’re here. And I want _you_ , not some chick who isn’t going to be there again. You’re still here, and that means a lot.” Could he sound any more pathetic? “You’re not cheap.”

“Damn right I’m not.” The challenging eyes this time, and somehow John hadn’t realized quite how expressive those brown eyes were. Then the expression softened as Matt smiled. “You owe me breakfast.”

“Kid, you live here. You know what we have in the kitchen.” Matt just rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll take you out tomorrow, Daisy Duke. But can I please get into your skirt now?”

“I think that would be best for both of us.”

John reached back towards the skirt, only to have Matt’s hand stop him again. Frustrated all over again, John ground out, “What now?”

“The zipper is in the back.”

Oh.

Matt reached around his back and John could hear the slide of the zipper opening. Then finally the plaid material slipped—was shimmied—down Matt’s narrow hips, and his hard cock jutted in John’s direction. Up until a couple of months ago, he hadn’t thought such a thing could be hot, but after watching Matt get off all that time, he’d had to change his mind. A hard cock meant an excited guy, and in this case one who was willing to get John off, too.

And hell, Matt had groomed down there. For him. 

John reached out to stroke Matt’s dick—such a thing had stopped feeling strange a little while ago—and felt his own cock jerk at the kid’s groan. One of Matt’s hands wrapped around the back of John’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him. They hadn’t kissed the first time they fucked, or the second, but it felt wrong to not do it. Didn’t hookers refrain from kissing? Whatever the hell they were to each other, John didn’t want Matt thinking he didn’t respect him enough for some necking, at least as part of foreplay.

Matt’s tongue was in his mouth, and somehow that reminded John that he was still fully clothed and kissing a very naked, very aroused young man. Matt pulled away to breathe into his ear, “Strip, McClane,” and John did so as quickly as he could without ripping anything off or pulling a muscle. His Dockers and button-down joined Matt’s skirt and blouse on the floor, the clothing painting a very different picture of who was fooling around.

John walked around Matt so he could sit on the bed, then he pulled Matt down onto his lap. Matt landed with his knees splayed over John’s legs, their cocks lined up nicely for rubbing. Wary of chaffing Matt after the skirt, John pumped his cock slowly. Then Matt scrambled off of him, darted to the night table, and came back with lube and a condom.

John smirked; he loved how enthusiastic the kid was. He used the lube to stroke Matt’s cock more easily, and Matt’s hands clamped onto his shoulders, though carefully on the right one. The kid’s eyes fluttered shut and he bit at his lip, and John squeezed him tighter. “Want to be in you.”

“Been wanting that all afternoon. Hell, since I picked up the outfit the other day. Just need...” He reached for the lube. John pushed himself further back on the bed so he could lie down and watch as Matt straddled him and prepared himself. He was still having trouble with that whole aspect of this, no matter how much he knew Matt liked it.

But not touching meant he could enjoy watching. Enjoy watching someone get himself ready for him. Matt. Making room for his cock... “Hurry up.”

Matt stopped moving his fingers. “Eager, are we?”

“Ever since I walked through that door and saw you dressed up for me.”

“You asked for it.”

“Didn’t think you’d do it.”

“It wasn’t a problem. And the expression on your face when you saw me... Yeah. You’re fuckin’ hot.”

“You, too.”

Matt shivered, then started working himself open again. In John’s fantasy, the school girl rode him in this position, him flat on his back. She masturbated less, but wasn’t anywhere near as eager as Matt. Finally, Matt pulled his fingers out. “I’m ready.”

“Thank God.” Matt gave him a look, then deftly rolled the condom onto John’s cock and lubed it. He raised himself up and got in a better position straddled over him, then sank down, John’s cock sliding inside of him slowly but wonderfully.

Matt was always so hot and tight, and always felt fantastic around him. And in this position John didn’t even have to work too much yet, he could just enjoy the sensation of Matt, hot and tight and good. And so happy for it himself. It was never work to get Matt horny; he was usually the one trying to convince John to have sex.

He hadn’t fucked out Matt’s crush on him, and it was times like this he hoped he never would. John still wasn’t ready to deal with what that meant.

He squeezed Matt’s smooth thighs with his hands, and his right hand dropped to lightly rub over the scars on the kid’s left knee. The injury still hurt him on rainy days, and it always would, but it had healed well. Matt reached down and brought John’s hand back up to his thigh; he was still a little self-conscious, and didn’t like to be reminded of who injured him. How a kid who was riding him like this could be self-conscious of a few scars mystified John.

Matt leaned over him for better leverage, hair falling into his eyes, one hand landing near John’s shoulder, the other on his chest. “You okay, Matt?” Matt grunted in answer, and John reached up to stroke his cock again. The kid jerked into his hand, which made him feel that much better around him.

“Fuck, John, fuck me, now, harder...” Matt raised himself up to give John room to move, and took his own cock in hand so John had two hands to use for leverage. John closed his eyes to focus on the _feeling_ , the sensations, Matt hot and tight around him, his weight on him, and then the sound of Matt’s cries as he slammed up into him. Good cries, the kind that made John want to do it over and over because Matt was pretty loud during sex.

John rocked up into him again and again, hands tight on the kid’s thighs, until finally he could feel the tremors that meant Matt was about four seconds from coming. Matt groaned through his orgasm, hand clenching the comforter near John’s head, eyes shut tight as his body twitched, come landing on John’s stomach and chest.

One more happy groan and Matt went limp, barely able to hold himself up. John was definitely satisfied, and he hadn’t even come yet. He slowed his thrusts and squeezed Matt’s thighs again. “Good, kid?”

“Fantastic. And God, McClane, come already before you get me turned on again.” Hmm, trying to get Matt to go for two. Now there was a proposition John could get behind. But he did listen and focused on his own body again, and then Matt bent in half to suck on his chest, and it wasn’t long before John came, too, body jerking up into Matt’s.

With a sigh, Matt climbed off, but only to lie down next to him. “We need to do that more.”

John stripped off the condom and dropped it next to the bed. They could clean it up later. “The sex or the costume?”

“Either. Both. If that’s okay.”

“Kid, I’m lying here covered in your come after you dressed up for me, and I’m not getting up to shower any time soon. I think it’s okay.” And finally John had words for what he hadn’t before. He needed to come out with the truth. “I like you, Matt.”

“Really?” Matt propped himself up on an elbow to look down at him. “Like I like you?”

“Yeah, I think so.” And maybe he knew so, but he needed baby steps. It wasn’t every day you realized you might really have a, a _thing_ for a guy young enough to be your kid. But he did. He couldn’t keep dodging the issue, talking himself out of it.

“So it’s not just good sex.”

“Oh, it’s good sex.” Extremely good, if still a little uncomfortable in the back of John’s head. But how the hell often did he really listen to his brain? He was an action guy. Matt had the brains enough for both of them, anyway. “But if it were just sex I couldn’t keep doing it. I’m not that kind of guy.”

Matt... Matt _beamed_ at him. “I guess you’re not. You’re not an asshole.”

“No, I am. I’m just your kind of asshole.” And shit, flashbacks to Major Grant were _not_ welcome in his after-sex glow time. He groaned, and Matt murmured in question, and he shrugged off any forthcoming questions. “Long story. Don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” There was silence for a minute or two, until Matt asked, “So you liked the skirt?”

“Yeah, kid. I liked the skirt. But you don’t have to wear it again. You beat the fantasy right out of the water.” Or something to that effect.

“Maybe I liked it. Well, not the skirt itself, but the way _you_ liked it. If I had known you’d be so into it I would have tried that in the first place.”

That would have been... Yeah, just plain weird, having this hero-worshipping, cross-dressing geek in his house with no build up. “That’s okay. I think it all worked out.”

“Yeah. We’re good at working things out.”

“Good, then you can work at the crick in my back from this position.”

“Okay. I can try.”

“Shower first.” He ran a hand through the drying come. Gross. But easily washed away. He slowly got off the bed, and when he realized Matt wasn’t behind him, asked, “You coming?”

Wide, surprised eyes. “What? Yeah. Sure.”

John shook his head. He hoped he didn’t give Matt a stroke or something, with the way he kept surprising him today. “Come on, Matt.”

“I owe you a blow job anyway.”

“We’ll see, kid.” John didn’t think he could go again so soon, but they could try.

Best shower of John’s life.


End file.
